Realm of Shadows (Vampire Alliance)

by Heather Graham

  “You heard a scream—but how do you know that someone had been murdered?” Jacques asked.

  “Because his coworker said he had been murdered and that he was going to the police.”

  “But ... he didn’t urge you to go to the police?”

  “No, he urged me to go home.”

  “Could the one fellow have killed the other?”

  “No, I just told you, he had come after me. We were staring at one another when we both heard the scream.”

  “And he insisted that you not go to the police?”

  Tara let out a long sigh. “He swore to me that he was going to the police, and seemed to think that he was doing me a favor by insisting that I not go with him. Now, I think that I was an idiot. I should have gone with him, and told them what I know.”

  Jacques was shaking his head. “What could you have said? What do you know? You know that you heard a scream, and that was it. There’s brandy on the dresser there, get yourself some. Take a few deep breaths. Settle down.”

  “Where is Ann?”

  “Delayed at her office. Thank God.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “She thinks I am losing my mind. She would be furious that you took my words to heart and put yourself in danger.”

  “Did you put me in danger?”

  “I didn’t intend to,” he said softly. He was frowning.

  “But . . . at least you were out of the crypt, and you did not go to the police.”

  “Wait, a minute. As a decent citizen—”

  “You’re American, not French.”

  “As a human citizen of the world—”

  “There’s nothing you could have done.”

  “I still think I should turn around right now and go back and talk to them.”

  “No!” he said with an alarm so great it worried her. His face had gone ashen; he looked weak and frail.

  “But—”

  “The fellow who urged you to leave was doing you a great service. You must keep your name out of any investigation. Someone went into the dig and murdered a worker. Perhaps that someone is very dangerous. If your name were associated with the case, you could be in great danger.”

  “Grandpapa,” Tara said, “you must explain to me what is going on here. The professor thought a noblewoman was buried there. Was she buried with a tremendous fortune? What would cause someone to commit murder over a corpse?”

  “Get your brandy,” he commanded her.

  Because she was still shaking, she did as he said. She swallowed the contents of a small snifter without pausing for breath. Warmth flooded her. She hadn’t realized that she had felt so cold. She poured more, then took a seat by his bed.

  “Tell me—”

  “What about this fellow who insisted you leave?”

  “What about him? He was one of the diggers.”

  “Old, young? French, English, Italian—”

  “American. Somewhere between . . . I don’t know ... twenty-eight and thirty-five, I believe.”

  Jacques was frowning again. “And what did he look like?”

  “Dusty.”

  Jacques frowned.

  “Tall, wiry build. Strong—he broke down a very heavy door for us to escape from the main church. Brown hair, I think. Hazel eyes.”

  “Short hair?”

  She shook her head. “Probably below collar length. It was tied back.”

  Jacques shook his head, frowning, not looking at her, but seeming to search somewhere in his mind. “Ah, well, hair, it changes.”

  “What are you talking about? Jacques, I mean it. You have to tell me what is going on!”

  He stared straight at her. “There is evil in the ruins of the old church.”

  She sighed and clenched her teeth. “Jacques—that won’t cut it!”

  “You’re safe,” he said, as if he were speaking to himself. “Thank God. I had not imagined they had come so far. I’d not have sent you if I hadn’t believed that I still had time to ... to stop it. To know. Now, I know. I was an old fool. Yet it’s so difficult to become involved. And there are so few of us left. Because the world has changed, you know. That’s immaterial. Go to the top drawer of my dresser.”

  She sat stubbornly. “Not until you tell me what is going on.”

  He closed his eyes and grasped his chest suddenly.

  “Grandpapa!”

  He opened one old rheumy eye.

  “Go to the dresser.”

  “I am not! I’m calling the emergency line.”

  “No! Dammit, I’m just exhausted, I’m not having any kind of an attack! But I beg of you, do as I say.”

  “I’m not letting you get away with this! she told him firmly.

  “Open the drawer.”

  She opened the top drawer. Her grandfather’s things were neat and organized.

  “Open the little brown box.”

  She did so. There was a cross in it. A beautiful cross. Eighteen-carat gold, she thought, large, and elegantly fashioned.

  “Put it on.”

  “I’m wearing a birthstone pendant.”

  He shook his head, appearing deeply upset. “Please, I beg of you, wear it. Wear it for me.”

  She unhooked the necklace she had been wearing and replaced it with the cross. When she walked back to the bed, she was startled by the strength of his grip as he took her hand.

  “sit. ”

  She sat.

  “This must be between you and me for now, please. You must swear not to talk to others about me behind my back, no matter how senile you think I am.”

  “I never thought you were senile—”

  “Well, then, you’re the only one who hasn’t. But swear to me, swear on the cross that you’ll say nothing about this, whether you believe me or not. I cannot afford to be locked up in a mental institution at the moment.”

  He sounded perfectly rational. His gaze, fixed upon her, seemed as sane as any she had ever seen.

  “I swear, I won’t repeat any of this.”

  “I believe that they have dug up a vampire.”

  “What?” she cried, incredulity heavy in her voice.

  He sighed deeply. “There are such creatures in the world, you know.”

  “No, I don’t know. There are sick people in the world, I do know that. There are people who think they are vampires, and there are people who think that dogs and even gods speak to them, and command them to go out and do terrible things. But Grandpapa, there aren’t real vampires.”

  “I knew you would not believe me. And I’m very afraid that in time, you will.”

  “I’m lost, here, Grandpapa. Help me. I want to believe you, or to at least find a logical explanation for what you’re thinking, believing. Because I know you’re not crazy, and you’ve always been the brightest man I have ever known, sane, intelligent, ready to think and reason.”

  Once again, he was shaking his head. “Would that age were not such a brutal hindrance!” he said. “Listen to me, there is evil in the world.”

  “I’m afraid there are few so innocent and naive any more that they don’t recognize that fact. Man himself can be more evil than—”

  “Indeed, sadly that is true. But this goes beyond your concept of what evil may be.”

  She looked at him steadily. “Grandpapa, I don’t believe in ghosts, spirits, or vampires.”

  “All right; I know that I am asking a lot of you. But you must promise that you will pay attention to what I ask you to do.”

  She sighed. “You know, we’ve just agreed that you’re not a senile old man. Therefore, I shouldn’t have to humor you.”

  “You must do what I ask.”

  “And what is that?”

  “Wear the cross. Never take it off. And let no one into the house that you don’t know. Be wary. Be rude. Don’t make new friends while you are here. Think of the things you have heard in legends, in books, in movies, but don’t count on them all. Oh, no. They can walk by day. They may be weak, and there are those among
them who love garlic, though many do not. Holy water is strong against those who are evil, not against all of them mind you, but those who are evil. And a cross . . . a cross is a symbol. It is the same, it means nothing against those who aren’t evil, and everything against those who are. Are you listening, paying attention? It’s important. You must keep the windows closed. And ask no one in. That’s very important. Ask no one in.”

  “Jacques, please, I’m going to try to do as you say, but you must admit yourself that you’re sounding like a madman.”

  “But you must listen to me. I think, I still think, there are things that must be done, she must be stopped. There are others in the Alliance, it has just been so many years, I thought myself crazy sometimes in the States, as if I had imagined it all from the Old World as well. And then there was the war ... and more wars. Always, wars. And that’s when you see the evil of man, and sometimes learn the goodness of the Alliance. In the modern world . . . but they are out there, and now she is out there, and you must listen to me.”

  Tara was listening, and she loved him, but the more he spoke, the crazier he sounded. Except that maybe he was right about one thing. If a brutal murderer had killed a poor worker to get into a coffin, there had to have been something in it of incredible value. And to keep from being caught, the murderer might well make her a target, if he knew that she had been all but a witness in the crypt.

  “Lord!” she exclaimed suddenly.

  “What is it?”

  “My purse. It is still in the corridors of the dig somewhere.”

  “Perhaps not.”

  “It must be—”

  “Perhaps the young man found it.”

  “He didn’t have it when we left the church.”

  “Perhaps you didn’t see that he had it. Don’t be afraid. If it were there, most probably, our phone would have rung by now, the police would have found you here. Let us hope it is gone, as I have said. If it is found, you must say that you lost it when you visited the church and the excavation site. You must not let on that you know anything about the murder.”

  “This is still wrong, my not reporting what I know. If I could help—”

  “You can’t help. Not by going to the police.”

  Tara heard Ann’s car in the driveway below. She walked to the windows that looked down on the courtyard.

  “Tara! ”

  She turned back. “You mustn’t tell Ann about anything that I have said. She will not believe. She is beautiful and smart and loving—and entirely pig-headed! And I fear . . .”

  “You fear what?”

  “I fear that I can’t keep her from danger. You must watch out for her as well. Never risk yourself, but watch out for your cousin. She is all sense and fact and what the eyes can see, and this will not help us now.”

  “Grandpapa, what exactly will help us?”

  He closed his eyes. “I have to think . . . I have to think ... if only the old Alliance were still about. We have grown so weak with time, with the horrors of today’s world. Men fight other battles, and they forget . . . easy to forget because so few believe, and then again, if they did believe, what would happen would be frightening.”

  “Ann is on her way up.”

  “You must say nothing.”

  “What do you mean, say nothing? She told me this morning that you wanted her to go to the church.” “Tell her that you went, that is all.”

  Ann came up the stairs, hurried into the room, and spoke so quickly herself that Tara wasn’t called upon to say much.

  “Did you hear? Dear Lord, I had the radio on while I drove home. I never do, I usually listen to CDs, music, you know, after endless meetings. There’s been a murder. At the church. Something really horrible, someone broke in, apparently stole the contents of a coffin including the corpse, and murdered one of the workers. Horribly. The man was decapitated!”

  “We heard,” Jacques said, shaking his head.

  “Tara, did you go there today?”

  “Yes.”

  “It makes me shiver, just to think of it! My God, you must have seen the poor man who was killed! Were they working when you went?”

  “Yes, I suppose I did see him. But the workers ignored me, mainly. I struck up a conversation with the professor running the dig.”

  “Dubois,” Ann said, rolling her eyes.

  “Do you know him?”

  “I’ve met him. He is a wild-eyed fanatic with wild hands as well. Hm. At least now, he will be stopped. And they will hold up the excavations, so that will please you, won’t it, Grandpapa?”

  “This is all on the news already,” Jacques murmured.

  “Well, yes, of course. A terribe murder was discovered. The one coworker discovered the other and went to the police. Of course, he is under suspicion. They don’t say so on the news, but he must be. It was just him, and the dead man, who remained at the excavation.”

  “I wonder,” Jacques murmured.

  “You wonder what?” Ann said.

  “I wonder if Dubois was really gone. Have they spoken to him since this happened?”

  “He was called, according to the report I heard. He was shocked when he spoke to authorities, having been interrupted at his dinner after a long day. And, of course, he was deeply dismayed, but it didn’t sound as if he was as dismayed about the worker as he was that his dig would be halted. But I certainly don’t think he was guilty of killing his own worker. Nothing in the world meant more to him than that dig. He is disturbed because his great scientific work will be held up by crime scene detectives.” She looked at Tara. “You’re all right? The fact that you were even there today gives me shivers. I’m bringing Eleanora in from the stable tonight. She will sleep in the hall.” Ann paused and shivered again. “This is horrible. Horrible. Such a brutal murder to have taken place so close to us!”

  “There is an alarm on the chateau,” Jacques reminded her.

  “Of course, Grandpapa. I’m not a silly little chicken. It’s just unnerving.”

  “Very unnerving,” Jacques agreed.

  Ann frowned suddenly. “You look exhausted, Grandpapa.” She looked at Tara, as if her cousin’s arrival and time this late with their grandfather was foolish and discourteous and Tara certainly should have known it.

  “I’m fine. But I will sleep now. And Ann, you are not a foolish little chicken—you must bring the dog in, and, of course, you must see that the alarm is carefully set. And as I have been telling Tara, we must not invite any strangers into this house. You understand that? We mustn’t invite any strangers in.”

  “Of course not,” Ann said. “We’ll leave you now to sleep.”

  She kissed him on both cheeks, and Tara did the same. His eyes caught hers, and in them, there was a look of pleading along with determination.

  “Bonne nuit, Grandpapa,” she said softly.

  They started out of the room. He called after them.

  “If there is trouble ever, of any kind, you must call me. I mean it. I fought in the Resistance, you will remember. And I may be old, but there’s nothing wrong with my aim.”

  “Of course, Grandpapa,” Ann said.

  They stepped out of the room. Ann closed the door behind them. “You have to learn, Tara, how easily he tires,” she said reproachfully.

  “I just got home, and have been with him only a few minutes,” Tara said. “But don’t worry, I adore him, too, and intend to be very careful.”

  “It must be this shocking news that has so upset him,” Ann said. She shivered again. “When I heard on the radio . . . my skin just seemed to crawl! Oh, Tara, I should have a wonderful dinner and sit down and be chatty, but I am so tired. I was thinking of a very large drink in the bathtub, and then bed. Would you mind? I know that I had suggested going out tonight, but the day was so chaotic, I ran so late, and then hearing about the murder . . .”

  “Go to bed. I’m exhausted as well. I never got to sleep because Grandpapa wanted me to go to the church.”

  “If you had arrived tomorr
ow, it would have been too late.”

  “Yes, well, I arrived today,” Tara said ruefully. “Go to bed, get your rest. I’m off to my room as well.”

  “I’m just going down for the dog. Eleanora is a shepherd, huge, and loyal, and so trustworthy!”

  “Good night, then.”

  Tara kissed her cousin on both cheeks, and headed for her room. Once inside, she sat down at the foot of the bed. She felt numb. The worker had been beheaded.

  Sweat broke out on her palms. She had been there when it happened.

  She stood, trying to shake off the mantle of fear that seemed to tighten around her as she sat. She walked to the French doors that led out to the balcony and opened them to the night breeze.

  Her room was to the right of her grandfather’s, while Ann’s room was to the left—all three of them overlooked the front of the house with the drive and the entrance to the stable to the right when she was looking down.

  There were no stars in the sky, and the moon was but half full. The chill of the coming fall suddenly seemed great. She looked from the sky to the stable, wondering if she had the energy to go and give Eleanora a welcoming pat.

  She heard a strange sound.

  A baying. Fear seemed to clasp chilled wet fingers around her heart again.

  A dog. It had been nothing but a dog.

  And there it was. Down below, at the end of the drive. Eleanora?

  The animal was huge. She heard the baying again. Deep, and otherworldly. A haunting sound that might have come from an entire pack of deep-throated animals, crying to the night and the heavens above.

  She leaned over the balcony. It was not Eleanora. It was not a shepherd.

  It was a wolf. And a wolf as large as a horse, so it seemed.

  There were no wolves here, just outside of Paris, she told herself. And she blinked. Hard.

  The wolf remained.

  And once again, the night was split with the unearthly sound of the creature crying out to the moon and the sky.

  She withdrew, standing in the doorway, away from the balcony. She closed her eyes, wishing that the sound didn’t seem to tear into her soul, and bring such a premonition of danger and fear.

  A man had died. A horrible death. And she had been there, down in the darkness of ancient corridors that belonged to the dead. Naturally, she was frightened. And it wasn’t at all usual to see a wolf in the driveway ...